


Earl Grey Tea

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Genderfluid Character, M/M, Rare Pairings, Slow Burn, not abusive mont
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-10 07:34:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4382981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>combeferre finds a criminal injured outside his door, what was he supposed to do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. With cream

Combeferre did not live an uneventful life, quite the contrary in fact. Between studying to become a doctor, being one of the three heads of the Les Amis, and the fact that the other two heads were Enjolras and Courfeyrac he was always sufficiently occupied. And not to brag, but with all of these things put together, he had learned quite a bit about the world despite only being twenty three. 

 

So the bleeding person on the steps outside of his flat had collapsed at the right place. It was easy for him to push back the natural panic that bit at the edges of his mind, he was used to that. Unfortunately, as he dragged the smaller person in and laid them out on the couch he came to the realization that the gushing head wound was not the extent of the injuries. The persons shirt had a hole torn out the side and blood wetting the already dark fabric around the hole even darker.

 

Leaning closer Combeferre was able to determine with the utmost certainty that it was in fact a bullet wound. Now that he was not used to.

 

But he did know better than to try and remove the bullet with only a half baked knowledge on how to do so, so he instead hurried to his kitchen and opened the drawer with the linens and considered it. He determined after a few seconds that it would be much more efficient to yank out the whole drawer and bring all the cloths with him then it would be risk having to come back and forth so he pulled it out and rushed back to his living room where the black haired person was bleeding all over his yellow couch and tried not to think of the stains that they were going to leave.

 

He quickly got to work after that, already having a first aid kit in his satchel which he was lucky enough to have on him when he discovered the injured person. It took about thirty minutes of panicking and mending every injury he could see before he determined that he had done all he was capable of doing. Which was something that was hard to admit to himself. So he sat on the coffee table and waited, watching the unconscious person.  
*  
Someone was watching them. Creepy. But they didn't open their eyes to acknowledge whoever it was just yet, first they tried to gather as much about their surroundings with their eyes closed.

 

They were on a couch, they could tell that much by the firm armrest that was working to make their neck as uncomfortable as possible. It was warm where they were, and if they were right someone had put a blanket on them. So not Eponine or any of the Patron Minette. R, Maybe? Or possibly Azelma, well either way whoever it was would probably dump some ice water on them any moment and get mad at them for most likely bleeding on their couch. So they opened their eyes.

 

And wow was that not Azelma or R.

 

*

 

They were blinking awake, startling green eyes falling on him then widening in surprise. But instead of freaking out and waking up bleeding in someone else's home this person recovered quickly, sitting up and stretching lazily.

 

"Hello, and who might you be?" The person asked, their voice smooth and quiet, reminding Combeferre somehow of earl grey tea with cream.

 

"My name is Combeferre." He introduced himself, holding a hand out. The person raised an eyebrow at the hand and their lips twitched, but just when Combeferre was about to pull his hand back self consciously they slipped their delicate hand to shake his.

 

"Charmed." They drew out the word, and Combeferre couldn't tell if it was with sarcasm or just more of the strange lazy disdain that threaded through all of the persons words like honey.

 

"I patched you up." He pointed out, unsure of what else to say. "A couple of stitches, but nothing too horrible, I have a glass of water here for you whenever you want it."

 

"You seem to have missed the bullet." The person smirked and a Combeferre flushed.

 

"I'm only a med student, I thought I would leave that to someone with an actual doctorate." Combeferre told them dryly.

 

"Ah too scared to do it?" They guessed and sat up to start rooting through the first aid kit that was still open on the floor.

 

"Oh I'm sorry for not attempting a procedure I have never done and putting your life at risk, I will just go ahead and start cutting next time a strange person falls at my doorstep covered in blood." Combeferre rolled his eyes, but then they widened as Monteparnasse lifted their shirt and started to do this themselves. "What are you doing?"

 

"Concentrating." Montparnasse sighed, not looking away from their work for a moment.

 

"I don't think you are doing that right." He commented, leaning forward to watch.

 

"I'm a criminal not a doctor dammit!" Montparnasse snapped back, before a blush rose on their cheeks, revealing that they were aware of what they had just said.

 

"Did you just... reference star trek and admit to being a criminal in the same sentence?" Combeferre asked, the beginnings of a smile starting to form on his face.

 

"Quite possibly now get me something to put on this." They asked, trying to skirt past the topic as quickly as possible. Combeferrre handed them a towel from the stack he had lying beside him.

 

"I think you might be a nerd." Combeferre said mildly and the person looked up at him, their mouth opening and closing, horrified that he would suggest such a thing.

 

"You have three Jane Austens on your coffee table!" They protested.

 

"Me being a nerd doesn't diminish any of your nerdiness." Combeferre shrugged. The person glared at him for a moment before a small smile was allowed, and they thrust their hand towards him for another handshake.

 

"My name is Montparnasse."


	2. London Fog

Montparnasse had always been the type of person to pay their debts. Well if you excluded silly things like taxes, rent, or paying off bets, but those didn't count. What did count was when someone helped you out of a bind; which was exactly what Combeferre had done. And to be fully honest, they hed trusted the man in the hours they had spent in his home. And trust was a strange sensation for them. Not trusting was a part of their job, a part that had saved their life, but for gods sake, the man had sent them off with a cookie and a book recommendation, it was hard not to. So three days later, when everything was beginning to heal over, and after a nice job that ensured that they would have more than enough to pay for whatever Combeferre wanted, they went back to the mans home. It was easy to find the place, a combination of their own stellar sense of direction, and the fact that the fence around the home was decorated with painted on strings of flowers. When they arrived they knew Combeferre was gone, probably at school like a good university student which it was clear he was. So they let themselves into the flat and sat on the armchair in the corner and picked up a Jane Austen and started reading it slowly.

 

As they flipped through pages time slipped away from them, having never read the book before, or anything considered a classic, and they were startled when they heard the door opening. Quickly they recovered, putting the book aside and turning the reading lamp off before Combeferre walked into the living room. They watched the man silently as he dropped his satchel onto his couch and flopped after it face first. Montparnasse's lips twitched and they were just able to hear Combeferre mumble into the cushion.

 

"I hate everything." He complained and Montparnasse got out of their chair quietly, their dramatic reveal already ruined by the fact he hadn't noticed them at all.

 

"That sounds like a lot of work, to hate everything I mean." Montparnasse told him and Combeferre jolted violently, tumbling off of the couch and onto the floor with a loud thump. He looked up at them with wide scared eyes.

 

"Holy shit Montparnasse." He muttered, and pinched the bridge of his nose closing his eyes. "I should have let you die." He muttered.

 

"Oh don't pout." Montparnasse rolled their eyes and fell to the floor cross legged next to him.

 

"Just tell me why you are here, and why you felt the need to break into my home." He sighed, sitting up.

 

"Oh I came to invite you out for coffee." Montparnasse smiled at him.

 

"You... broke into my house... to ask me out?" Combeferre asked disbelieving. 

 

"Ew no." Montparnasse recoiled immediately scrunching their nose and Combeferre looked at them offended.

 

"Ew?" He repeated, raising an eyebrow.

 

"Well, I mean not that you aren't attractive, because hot damn, call the police and the firemen indeed." Montparnasse gestured at him as they corrected themselves and were to busy speaking to notice the blush that raised on Combeferre's cheeks as they spoke. "But like, I met you a day ago, which is not nearly long enough to do a proper background check to see if you are a plant. Also you like star trek so.." They trailed off.

 

"You like it too!" Combeferre protested.

 

"First, that information is strictly classified and I cannot believe you would bring it up, and two, now you want me to ask you out?" They challenged and Combeferre sputtered, before he could manage a response Montparnasse was talking over him. "I just want to pay you back for stitching me up."

 

"You mean, you think that you can pay me back for saving your life, with a cup of coffee?" Combeferre asked.

 

"Please you didn't save my life." Montparnasse huffed. "I have survived worse."

 

"Tell me what you have survived that was worse than a gunshot wound and a head injury." Combeferre looked at them with a raised eyebrow. Montparnasse paused to think.

 

"My scene phase." They decided on. "I mean there was punk streaks, straightened hair, fishnets, the whole nine yards. It was a dark time."

 

Combeferre shook his head at them before standing up slowly. "Fine, buy me some coffee, god knows I need it after the day I had."

 

"Ohhh tell me all about it stud." Montparnasse said in a high pitched voice, jumping to their feet and slipping their arm through the crook of his. 

 

Combeferre laughed and led them to the door, winding up for a truly magnificent rant about the TA who graded his essay.


End file.
